Wanderlust
by FlayAltadusa
Summary: Renia has fought and battled, but the scent of war still evokes a passionate loathing, as her father was taken by it. When she is called to accompany her chieftain on a somewhat perilous journey, she discovers that a much greater war awaits her. A war that draws the young girl far from her home in Arnor all the way to the gates of Mordor, the harbinger of war and all things evil.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _Suil! _(I'm trying to speak more Elvish). 'Tis Flaylala Altadusa, bearing yet another LOTR fanfic. I'm trying to write an actual multi-chap story, so here's it is!

I realize that this has the full potential to become yet another well-detested Mary Sue fanfic, but I will try my best not to make it one. I sincerely hope you give this fanfic a try. I know you've probably read thousands of similar fanfics, but this one is diff – well, not really. Well, um, let's just get this started before I ward off all my audience.

Elvish is _italicized_.

**Extended Summary:** Renia has fought and battled, but the scent of war still evokes a passionate loathing – as her father was taken by it. When she is called to accompany her chieftain on a somewhat perilous journey, she discovers that a much greater war awaits her, one that will not end once death befalls on the enemy. A war that draws the young girl far from her home in Arnor all the way to the gate of Mordor, where an evil spirit dwells, the harbinger of war and all things evil. War is upon Middle-Earth, from the far corners of the North the southern reaches of the Black Lands. Death and destruction lay in every creeping shadow, though Renia is determined to escape such a fate and battle against war and against evil.

* * *

The corpse fell at her feet, bloodied, bruised and infected with mold and deformities beyond her imagination. It was not a sight meant for a young woman to gaze upon, nor was it a sight meant to be seen by anyone, for it was too repulsive and too wicked for the eyes of Men. Black blood and vile, yellow pus oozed out of the corpse' neck, infused with liquids of grey and red that were so revolting that Renia could distinctly taste the sour acidity of her vomit rising in her throat. An array of disgusting hues blended together inharmoniously, and Renia herself could not distinguish the features of the corpse, for it was so battle-torn that it resembled nothing short of a carcass after being pecked out empty by scavenging ravens. Scars and blood clots adorned every possible inch of the tar-black body with a sort of sinister symmetry that the young girl could not place a finger on. Renia stepped on the body guiltlessly, feeling the blood gushing and churning under her thin-soled shoes. She felt no shame for such a deed. Orcs deserved no mercy, no respect, in life or death. In fact, she found a sadistic pleasure in trodden upon her enemy's body. It was perversely satisfying.

The head followed shortly after.

It landed with a soft thud, white foam bubbling out of the orc's mouth and black blood dripping out of its eye sockets. Rotted grey teeth stuck out of the wide-mouthed beast, crooked and angled very peculiarly. Renia sunk her sword into the head slowly and fully, staring deep into the orc's eyes with nothing but resolute apathy. An unwavering indifference, whether it was to war itself or the death of the orc, she could not decide. Possibly both.

She thrust her sword into the air, the stringy, black locks of the orc swaying triumphantly with each swing. "Victory…" she started, and heaved over with a fit of coughs, "Victory… is ours!"

A burst of cheers arouse from the remaining men, merry and hearty, but also laced with a somber undertone. It had been quite the attack. They had lost many. The celebration did not last long, for many were gravely injured and required medical assistance immediately. Renia herself found that she was much too fatigued to continue such a pointless act of bravado that consumed her much-precious energy. It was one thing to celebrate, it was another to waste your strength on superfluous triumphing.

Renia heaved the head off her blade and it sailed many fathoms away.

"Your foul blood had stained Laegrist enough," she muttered to the multitude of orc carcasses, "Be gone."

Renia stumbled over a corpse, and as she lurched over with a lack of balance, she felt a deep gash seethe into her stomach. She pressed her palm against her side, and discovered that it was soaked in blood. Not good. The blood was darkened and slightly dry, indicating that it was an old wound, most likely inflicted on her during the battle many ways ago. Renia felt her balance waver, despite standing on flat ground. A sudden euphoric dizziness crept into her mind, and the edges of her vision began to blur and fade. Soon, she could barely see in front of herself. Was it the end? She was not sure.

"Thank you, Laegrist," she whispered to her blade, "You have fared me well." She pressed the flat side her sword close to her chest

And with that, the young girl fell over into a pool of her kin's blood.

* * *

Renia awoke. Eventually.

Needless to say, the moon had risen and fell many times before Renia awoken. Many thought she had died, or fell into a coma. Laments were sung at her bedside, albeit the fact that the nurses prominently informed the guests that she was alive. Most had finished their mourning for her, and were awaiting her burial. But miraculously, she woke up, during the dusk of her thirteenth night asleep. It was quite the spectacular sunset, and wonderful sight to gaze upon after such a lengthy slumber. The sky was painted with a myriad of blues, purples and pinks, creating an ocean of hues that were too beautiful to describe. Renia let out a sigh of content as she stared into the ethereal sky through the arched windows of her room.

"Beautiful, is it not?"

A chillingly solemn voice shocked Renia out of her sleepy daze. She cast an almost fearful glance at her visitor, expecting one of great importance or fright to be at the threshold. But to her delight, it was her close friend, Elladan.

* * *

Elladan and his twin brother, Elrohir, though having their origins from Rivendell, often travelled to Arnor to support and fight alongside the Dunedain. When Renia's father died during an attack, Aragorn, the chieftain at the time, took it upon himself to care for Renia, but as his duties as a chieftain accumulated significantly, he bestowed the job upon his close Elven friends, not because of his lack of love for Renia, but because of his lack of time. Families dwelling in Arnor at the time could not afford Renia as a burden, despite their pity for the young girl, so Elladan and Elrohir happily agreed to Aragorn's task, and sought out to teach their child both the ways of Men, and the ways of Elves. They taught her Sindarian, as well as Westron, and chanted Elvish songs to put her into slumber. Nonetheless, they were quite careless parents, allowing Renia to freely wield a blade when she was only the age of eight, which earned her (and Elrohir) quite a lengthy scar. Her three guardians, combined, had done quite the pathetic job as parents, allowing the young girl to often get herself hurt and delve into mischief, but in the meanwhile, they had created an excellent warrior with a strong heart and clean morals.

Renia could not obtain a position with the Dunedain rangers, but she would often be called to guard the city's borders when they were at a lack of soldiers, for she was a skilled fighter nevertheless her gender. Women in Numenor were seldom looked down upon, and Renia, even amongst the Dunedain, was very much respected. But it was traditional for men to ride out and women to stay behind, and Renia, though constantly vying to prove her worth, respected that tradition wholeheartedly. During her late youth, she had stopped training for battle and begun assuming the roles of her gender, trading a blade for a broom, a bow for a rag-cloth and a shield for a cooking pan. Despite the constant support and assistance of her female superiors, Renia failed miserably in cooking and cleaning, often ending up with venomous concoctions that would put men to sleep for many a day. Her herb-lore was elementary at the best, and she could barely remember the names of common medicinal plants. Nevertheless, she strived to become the ultimate warrior - and the ultimate housewife.

* * *

"The meaning of beauty differs for each living soul," Renia replied coolly.

"What is your meaning of beauty then, milady?" Elladan asked, gliding closer to her bedside. Renia's eyes did not stray from the sky.

"I do not know," she answered, sorrowfully, "I have yet to gaze upon such a sight that would deem itself the meaning of beauty."

"Myself, perhaps?" Elladan teased.

"Oh, be quiet, you!"

"Is my bothersome brother troubling you, Renianeth?" a voice called from down the hall. It was Elrohir. "I will gladly remove his presence from your vicinity if you so desired." He appeared by his brother's side, grinning wildly. They exchanged playful nudges.

"I will gladly remove your _existence_ from her vicinity," Elladan joked, shouldering his brother roughly. Elrohir elbowed him back nonchalantly.

"I will gladly remove – " Elrohir started, but was cut off by yet another visitor.

"I will gladly remove both your existences from the face of Middle-Earth if you do not stop quibbling in front of a recovering patient!"

Saptheth, the head nurse of the facility marched into the room, glowering at the two elven brothers disapprovingly. She roughly shoved Elrohir out of her way and proceeded to clean Renia's bedside with a purposeful anger.

"Our apologies Saptheth, Renia," Elrohir said, coating on his elven charm, "If you wish for us to part, we will do so. But it is so difficult to take my eyes off such beautiful woman. Oh, Saptheth, you have grasped my heart fondly, alluringly – "

"Get out! Now!"

The two brothers scurried out without another word.

Renia giggled. When she was smaller, Elladan and Elrohir had appeared to be two graceful, elegant, sober beings. She looked up to them, worshiped them even, for the majestic and regal aura that seemed to only occupy the vicinity when they (or Aragorn) were present. But as she grew to be a woman, she discovered that they were ridiculously immature and often engaged in brotherly quarrels. Amongst the Dunedain, they were easily the most childish. More so, amongst the elves (as Aragorn had described.) Renia often wondered how Elladan and Elrohir behaved around their own kin, who appeared to be so prim and proper in the folktales.

"Bothersome elven princes," Saptheth murmured distastefully, "Prancing into every corner of my healing room and claiming young woman for their own. Disgraceful!" She wet a cloth and dabbed it on Renia's forehead and cheeks to cool her down.

Renia said nothing. Saptheth was prideful woman, and arguing against her would not be a wise choice. She began to think pensively about the recent battle. Had it not been for the second line of reinforcements, and she would have been dead. The thought chilled her to the bone.

"Cat got your tongue, little lady?" Saptheth asked after a wavering silence.

"I was thinking."

"About what?"

"The attack," she spoke softly, "How many have returned?"

Saptheth paused briefly, a slight moment's hesitation amidst her fluid course of work. "It is not of importance, child," she replied finally. Her hands continued to move about, this time, shakily and unsure.

"Saptheth," Renia said firmly, "How many have returned?"

"If you must know," Saptheth sighed, surrendering, "Unscathed, two. Injured, twenty-six."

Renia's heart sinks. "That many…?" she whispered. She could not finish her sentence. _That many… died?_

"I'm afraid so."

Three hundred men and women departed from the city to assist the sentinels during a sudden and vicious warg-scout attack. Only twenty-eight returned alive. In other circumstances, the odds could have been fairer. If the Dunedain men were present, they could have slaughtered those orcs quicker than lightning could strike. But, it wasn't so. It was not grown men who were protecting Arnor on those blood-stained fields. It was women, who were noble and dauntless enough to volunteer themselves to fight. It was the elderly, who were armed with nothing more than sword and commanded to sacrifice their lives for their city. It was the children, boys barely at Renia's shoulders, who cried for glory and victory, and screamed in pain and agony. There were no men on those fields. But, there were soldiers. Noble soldiers, they were. And they do not lay on the battle-torn fields in vain, but in valour and gallantry, for all the glory of Men and the freedom of Arnor.

Renia stared blankly at the stone-cracked floors, reminiscing. It was not her first battle, but it was undoubtedly her first war. Battles had she fought, where many returned scathed and some lay dead. But war was not so. War was countless bodies, oceans and rivers of crimson, cries and screams, and all things grisly and gruesome. War was no place for her. So easily had she fallen. So hopeless were her words and so negative were her thoughts. So venerable had she been, and scathed numerous times for that reason. It was a miracle that she had survived and lived to see the end of the gory brawl.

* * *

_"What is war?" Renia asked her elven caretakers when she was about six years of age._

_ "War is a terrible thing," Elladan told her somberly, "War is black and red and all things bad and evil."_

_ "Is war what took my papa away from me?" Renia had asked._

_ Elrohir and Elladan exchanged pitiful glances as she said that. "Yes," Elrohir said, sadly._

_ "When I grow up, I'm going to kill war!" Renia claimed, whacking her stick on the stone ground furiously. _

_ They laughed heartily as young Renia waved her stick in the air, mimicking swordplay. _

"_I hope to see you prevail in that quest, Renia," Elladan told her, smiling._

* * *

"What is war?" Renia asked out loud. Her voice was wistful and despondent, lamentation almost. A rhetorical question it was, yet she longed for a definite answer.

"War is terrible, horrible monster," Saptheth spoke lowly, "It rips your innards out and stuffs it back down your throat, then blandly excretes in your mouth so you can taste the true meaning of dreadful things."

Mortified at Saptheth's frank reply, Renia pressed closer to the headboard of her bed, as if suspicious of her caretaker.

Saptheth finished rinsing some clothes then proceeded to briskly exit the room.

"War will make corpses of us all," she said finally as she left the doorway.

* * *

Renia recovered fully within two days. The first thing she did was visit her chieftain.

When asked why she visited him so often she did, she would reply that it was out of respect. In fact, she had gone to see him almost every day when she was child, and grew too fond of him to part from the comforting tradition. He was almost like a second father to him, as it was Aragorn who had taken her under his wing until the arrival of Elladan and Elrohir. Still, they remained close.

They met almost every morning at the stone bench in front of the stable.

Aragorn was seated there, as expected, with a leather notebook resting in his lap. He tapped a pencil to his chin thoughtfully as he stared out to the distance.

"Aragorn!" Renia called out gaily as the sight of her friend, "_Gi suilon, mellon nin_." Although her Elvish was not exactly fluent, Renia had been taught some simple phrases by Elladan and Elrohir, and was always eager to practice it on whomever could understand.

"Renianeth," Aragorn said, smiling warmly, "You look well."

"I am well!" She took a seat next to him, hopping about to show her vigor.

He laughed wholeheartedly. "I am glad to hear that," he said, his smile wavering slightly. He gazed at the grass pensively, possessed with a sudden misery.

"So many…" he spoke sadly.

Renia did not know how to reply. "Do not lament, my friend," she said comfortingly.

"If only we had more sentinels…" he continued, blaming himself.

"No one could have predicted this, Aragorn," Renia told him, "It was not your fault."

Aragorn sighed heavily. "Death befell those who did not deserve it."

"That can be said about everyone."

"So it can…" he spoke dimly. Abruptly, he stood up, startling Renia slightly. A look of epiphany and bemuse was shown on his face, as if he had remembered something dreadfully important. He scrambled his pens and papers together hurriedly, and set a gentle hand on Renia's shoulder.

"I apologize, I must take my leave now." Without another word, Aragorn quickly fled.

"_Galu_!" Renia called as Aragorn strode away.

"_Na lû, mellon nin_," Aragorn replied, flashing a smile as he disappeared down the alley.

* * *

A/N: So? Thoughts? Comments, questions, concerns? I realize this chapter is pretty dissatisfying, but I didn't want it to drag on forever. Hopefully you guys have the patience to read the next chapter? :)

Reviews, again, are super super appreciated.

**Notes: **

_Renia_ is Sindarian for "to stray/to wander." Her full name is _Renianeth_, with the Elvish suffix. This wasn't her real name prior to her father's death, as it was changed after Elladan and Elrohir took her in. (Her real name will be revealed later on, dun dun dun. It's not that important though. :P )

_Laegrist_ is the name of her sword. It means "keen-cleaver."

_Saptheth_ means "wise-woman" in Adûnaic.

**Elvish Translations: **

_ "Gi suilon, mellon nin"_ – I greet you, my friend.

_"Galu!"_ – good luck/goodbye (can also be hello)

_"Na lû, mellon nin," _– until later, my friend.

Courtesy of **Merin Essi ar Quenteli!** and **Arwen Undomiel. **(Elvish/LOTR reference websites. Couldn't get the URL on here for some reason... fanfiction hates me.)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hola! Thank you for all the favorites and follows! *hugs*

DragonWinglet: Thank you for the review! *super hug*

I really dislike this chapter, so this will probably be revised later on. But for now, enjoy!

* * *

"Milady?"

Renia casted a fleeting glance behind her shoulder to see a pallid young man, Gimlân, she believed his name was, standing idly, hands clasped behind his back. A long scar ran down his otherwise-flawless forehead, a shocking contrast to his pale skin. Gimlân was not a soldier, which was plainly seen by his fair complexion, scrawny build and pathetically weak character. Renia knew his story all too well, even without inquiring.

The orc attacks had lessened since the small battle in which Renia took part in, but as a precaution, the Dunedain began recruiting younger men, some barely reaching the age of twelve, to serve as soldiers in a secondary line in the case of an unexpected raid. They had only been called out to battle once, yet a quarter of them easily fell within the first five minutes of their arrival. It was saddening, but the residents of Arnor were already familiar with the feeling of tragedy and grief, for they lost many during these frequent attacks. Most days of late had consisted of burial and mourning, and the endless loom of grey skies fit the mood quite perfectly.

Gimlân was most likely one of the young men who had survived, scathed slightly, but alive nonetheless. He was probably mourning for his friends right now, reliving the horrifying moments of bloody war. He was no longer a boy. He was a man.

Yet, still a weak man, at that. Renia couldn't stand how limp Gimlân stood, as if he possessed no backbone of any sort.

Renia returned her gaze to the sky and nodded slightly, acknowledging his presence. She felt as if she were obligated to silence, as homage to the fallen children. Days of mourning had stolen all glee and vigor from the young girl, and was slowing thieving her words as well.

"The chieftain wishes to speak to you," he informed her, "It is of utmost importance."

"Thank you," Renia replied, her voice tired and flat. Gimlân left her proximity, his thick boots clomping clumsily against the stone floors. Renia stole one last glance at the dreary sky, reminiscing about the war, about the late nights spent healing fallen soldiers, and about the countless funerals that followed. Normally, Renia would have shed a tear, if not, many. But the somberness of the days had also stolen her emotions, and all her heart could feel was an empty blankness, like some sort of endless void. Apathy replaced her sadness, her anger, and most of her other foul moods.

* * *

She head towards the stone bench in front of the stable, undoubtedly wear Aragorn would be waiting for her. It didn't matter if it was one of their casual meetings, or 'of utmost importance'. It was that particular stone bench where they conversed, and hardly anywhere else. He waved plainly as she approached him.

"_Suil_," Renia greeted half-heartedly.

"_Suil, mellon nin_," Aragorn replied, "I have some important news to share."

Renia was hardly interested. "What fares?" she inquired, forcing some curiosity into her question. It was a task now to portray emotions. How lovely.

"Elladan and Elrohir leave for Rivendell in a week's time," Aragorn tells her, "Would you like to join them? Quickly now, for they will depart soon."

"I will oblige, but why do you ask me to join?" Renia questions suspiciously, "Would I not just be a burden?" In any other circumstance, she would be brimming with excitement about the thought of visiting Rivendell, but at that moment, she felt nothing, not even the slightest of interest.

"They need a healer in their company, for they will be riding through perilous lands."

"If you desire a healer, ask Saptheth, not I," Renia says, laughing.

"Saptheth cannot ride," Aragorn says, stifling a chuckle, "You are a capable rider and a decent healer, Renianeth. You would be an asset, not a burden."

Renia thought it over. The journey definitely sounded fun, but something was holding her back from agreeing. "Why are they riding to Rivendell?" she asked, curiously. It was a simple question, one she had not thought of asking amidst her excitement.

Aragorn sighed deeply, his eyes heavy with grief and emotion. "Evil lurks through the lands, Renianeth. I cannot say much… I do not want to instill fear upon our people."

"Tell me," Renia commanded, "If you are so desperate to send a _woman_ on a dangerous journey, then the cause of such must be dire."

Aragorn's icy eyes loomed over Renia pensively. He stepped towards her and leaned close to her ear. "Sauron's forces are attacking," he whispered almost inaudibly, "The One Ring has been found."

Renia stifled a gasp. The One Ring, forged by the hands of Sauron himself! A dangerous object it was, and it best not be under the possession of the enemy. "By whom?"

"Bilbo Baggins of the Shire had it under his keep for many a year," Aragorn muttered, "Gandalf knew naught of it until a few days ago. Bilbo then bestowed it upon his predecessor, Frodo Baggins. Gandalf wishes for it to be taken to Rivendell. I must see to their arrival."

"A hobbit?" Renia asks, amusingly surprised, "How did a hobbit come across the One Ring?"

"It is not of importance," Aragorn murmured, dismissing the topic, "Will you join Elladan and Elrohir or stay in Arnor? That is my question."

"What part do they play in such a task?"

"The lands between Arnor and Rivendell have become dangerous, mellon nin. The Nazgul have heard of the finding of the Ring and are riding to Shire as we speak. Elladan and Elrohir will scout ahead to ensure a safe passage and report back to their father," Aragorn informed her, "A council will be held in Rivendell regarding the happenings of the Ring, for it is uncertain whether it should stay in Imladris or not. The information that Elladan and Elrohir bear will affect the decision of the council greatly."

"I do not understand why they require my presence, though," Renia spat, "They are both swift riders and skilled archers, and could evade or defeat any enemy easily. It is unlikely that they would be scathed and need my healing."

"Renianeth," Aragorn said firmly, "I am giving you an opportunity to prove yourself. You often speak of the inequality of men and women, and how I never allow you to battle. But now I am giving you a chance to deem yourself a worthy Dunadan. I will not offer this to any other woman of Arnor. Will you take it, or leave it? Choose with haste!"

"But to leave my people… it feels wrong, Aragorn," Renia spoke somberly, "In such a time as well… do you not feel the same?"

"Renia!" Aragorn shouted harshly. Renia recoiled in fear of his sudden outburst. "Why are so questioning? Why do you are so unwilling? When you were a child, you only spoke of visiting Rivendell and meeting elves and going on adventures! But why is it that you are so hesitant when I give you the chance? I am bestowing upon you all my trust, but you so easily neglect it! I am not doing this out of my own greed Renia. I am not forcing you to join Elladan and Elrohir. I am doing this because I feel you deserve to fight alongside them, and to serve as a true Dunadan. But why are you reluctant?"

Renia suddenly felt quite angry. "I am no longer a child, Aragorn!" she yelled back at him, "If you command me to do so, I will obligingly, because you are my chieftain! But you tell me that you are doing this for _my_ sake, then I will defy you. You owe me nothing, Aragorn! You owe me no favors! I would love to ride with Elladan and Elrohir to Rivendell… I would love it so…" Her voice became limp and weak.

"To be a true Dunadan…" she continued softly, "That is my only wish… But… why do you give me such a chance so freely when all these years, you have only denied me? All these years, you have told me women were not to fight, and you trapped me behind walls…. But now… you give me a chance for battle so easily… I want to know why, mellon nin…. Your manner confuses me so."

Tears welled in Renia's eyes, warm and fresh. She sobbed softly, and turned away from Aragorn to hide her face.

Aragorn softened. "Renianeth," he said gently. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I only wanted to protect you. You are like a daughter to me, Renia. You were only a child… I did not want to see you hurt. I failed you when I let your father fall… I did not want to fail you again. I thought I could protect you all my life, but I have realized that you are strong enough to do so yourself. You can protect yourself, Renia, and others as well. You are so, so strong, my child. I want you to show me your strength. You have proven to me you deserve a place as a true Dunadan. And my first task I demand from you is to serve alongside Elladan and Elrohir."

Aragorn pulled Renia close as she cried silently into his chest. He stroked her hair soothingly as she wept soundlessly.

"You give me so much trust," Renia whispered between sniffles, "And I act so childishly…"

Aragorn said nothing.

"To allow me to go on such a journey is an honor, without a doubt," she continued as her voice grew steady, "I accept it wholeheartedly."

Aragorn smiled, and kissed her forehead softly. "_Guren glassui_."

Renia smiled back. "You are welcome, my lord."

* * *

They set out early, at the brink of dawn. After much heartfelt farewells, Renia mounted her horse and rode swiftly alongside Elladan and Elrohir. The last thing she saw was Aragorn smiling sadly at her, as if mourning her departure, though acting opposite. She casted him a bright smile in return. She knew he dreaded their parting, for even despite the words he had uttered previously, he was still frightened for her, and wanted to protect her. She wanted to reassure him, but found no way to express it.

Elladan and Elrohir were naturally elated to discover their third companion, and showered her with hugs and affection. The three busied themselves with preparation, whether it be packing or riding routes, though Renia often had to leave to tend to fallen soldiers in the healing room.

Finally, they rode. It was an easy route to Rivendell, despite the somber and dreary lands they passed. The journey was not as perilous as Renia had anticipated, but they ran into a slight skirmish with a group of orcs along the way.

"What bring such a number of orcs this north?" Elladan had asked to himself after they easily slaughtered them. "Five…. How peculiar…"

Renia and her company camped in a beaten-up stable house that night. Elrohir and Renia sat by the fire, planning their upcoming routes while Elladan comforted the horses, whom were nervous in the air of the orc-trodden land.

Renia shivered slightly as a cruel breeze billowed the fire slightly. She had dressed lightly, just a simple tunic, trousers, leather armor and riding boots, but the weather soon proved to be harsher than she expected. She pulled the corners of her blanket tightly over her shoulders, hoping to conserve her body heat.

Elrohir noticed her gesture. "Are you cold, Renianeth?" he asked considerately.

"No, thank you for asking," she lied. Her shoulder quaked as she said this.

Wordlessly, Elrohir wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. "Don't lie to me, Renianeth," he whispered into her ear. He collected his blanket from his side and draped it over Renia. She smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," she replied dreamily. The warmth of the fire soon put her to slumber and, unbeknownst of this, she drifted to sleep, her head rested on Elrohir shoulder.

Elrohir smiled at pulled Renia closer to his side. Elladan took a seat by the fire and gazed fondly at the young girl.

"I remember," he started in a dreamy, reminiscing voice, "She used to crawl up in our lap and fall asleep by the fire."

Elrohir nodded warmly. "She was still a child back then." He rested his chin on the top of Renia's head and stared out into the night musingly.

Elladan's eyes did not leave Renia. "She still looks like a child."

He paused for a moment. "Every time I looked at her, I wanted to hold her close and protect her from all the evil in the world."

"I still do," he added.

Elrohir nodded in agreement. They shared a thoughtful silence, before Elrohir spoke again.

"She is no longer our daughter, Elladan," he told him.

"I know."

"We must let her go," he spoke somberly, "We cannot always father her."

"We are still her friends," Elladan reminded him.

"Yes… I know," Elrohir spoke sadly. He did not say anything else.

_But I love her more than that_, he wanted to say, _Perhaps I love her… romantically._

Across the fire, Elladan was thinking the same.

They shook the thought out of their heads. What a horrid thing for a father to think.

* * *

A/N: Soo, what did you think? I'm not used to writing romance, so I'm not sure how this is going to go… Reviews are, always, super appreciated!


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